


Mirror-Touch Synesthesia

by IreneClaire



Series: Various Notions Collection [23]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Danny "Danno" Williams, Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt Steve McGarrett, I'm Bad At Titles, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Word Prompts, One of My Favorites, Part of my drabbles, Protective Steve McGarrett, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 13:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: To save Steve, Danny is forced to inject himself with a designer drug ... and Steve is forced to watch. What happens next, terrifies them both.Word(s) of the Day Self Challenge:  1.  Synesthesia and 2.  Mirror-touch synesthesia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calacious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/gifts), [Swifters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifters/gifts).



> The idea of this word/condition has been used before and with much more skill than this story. For a real story that just oozes talent, please read Calacious' Danny-centric story, "A Case of Mistaken Identity" - which was in turned inspired by Swifters' most fantabulous stoy, "Fifteen".
> 
> Be aware that these are real conditions which I am not making light of. This is fiction folks! Not a doctor; not beta'd. Written and shared for enjoyment purposes only. Published previously on Fanfiction's website.
> 
> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

**Word(s) of the Day:**

_**Synesthesia**_ : _a sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, as when the hearing of a certain sound induces the visualization of a certain color._

_**Mirror-touch synesthesia. ** A condition which causes individuals to experience the same sensation (such as touch) that another person feels. For example, if someone with this condition were to observe someone touching their cheek, they would feel the same sensation on their own cheek. Mirror touch synesthetes have a higher ability to feel empathy than non-synesthetes, and can therefore feel the same emotions that someone else may be observed to feel._

 

 

Danny's hands were shaking badly despite his best efforts to remain calm. Sure he was scared by the horrific predicament he and Steve now found themselves in, but he wasn't as afraid as much as he was very, very angry. They'd been so, so stupid to be lured so naively into such a trap. Using his teeth, he tied the rubber tourniquet off over his left bicep. Fingers slick with sweat, he readied the syringe against the thickening vein.

"Danny ..."

Just the tone of Steve's voice commanded that he stop; it begged him to find another way. Still, Danny not only didn't stop, he refused to look at Steve: at all. There was no other way. He also refused to look at the three men who'd incredibly managed to make the last thirty minutes worth of their lives, a living hell on what should have been a beautifully uneventful day off.

"Do it," Jacob Grinnell whispered nastily, just inches from Danny's face. "If you do it now ... we won't kill him. We might hurt him a little bit more, but we won't kill him. You have my word."

One of the two men holding Steve actually snorted in mirth, the sound echoing through the quiet of their tomb-like setting. Danny didn't know what the guy was laughing at by that point either. Was it that Grinnell's word was utter crap, or that he might be looking forward to only hurting the ex-SEAL just '... _a little bit more'?_

Danny refused to look directly at Grinnell, too, as his fingers shook and he pressed the tip of the needle against his skin. On the verge of imploding, he breathed in deeply through his nose, letting that lungful of air out through his mouth. He might be refusing to look directly at the man, but Danny knew precisely where he was - what he was doing. The man was crouched in front of him. Breath baited, he waited almost too patiently for Danny to inject himself with the toxin. Literally balanced on the balls of his feet, light and lithe. Long blond hair, hanging loose and softly curling down to his shoulders. A throw-back to some prior hippie generation. Comfortable and at ease, just like a baseball catcher, Jacob Grinnell appeared as if he could quite happily stay in that position for hours on end. And maybe he could, frankly though, Danny didn't care.

"Come on, pig ... do it. It'll feel good ... you'll not only like it, you'll love it ... it's surreal. Empowering _... cosmic_ ," Grinnell hissed through his teeth and Danny heaved in another juddering breath of air because he just knew the man was smiling, his teeth glinting whitely in the dim light. They'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book and were now going to suffer for it. Sitting splay legged,with his back against the concrete wall of the old parking garage where he and Steve had so stupidly chased the three down, he stared at the skin of his arm until it paled into a blur. With his skin smudged by dirt and debris, Danny only vaguely wondered if he'd get an infection or a disease from that filth or maybe from the needle, itself.

Not that it mattered either way because the real deal was what he was about to do to himself in order to save Steve's life. At least, that's what he'd been told; likely a lie, but he had to take the chance.

"Leave ...h'm," Steve choked and his words were lost round the beefy arm of the thug. Danny closed his eyes knowing what Steve had wanted to say. _Leave him alone. Get away from him. Don't make him do this._ All the things which countless others might have said at one time or another. But Jacob Grinnell was not one to stop. In fact, he felt _empowered_ ... he got off on ... the victim's struggle. Especially when that victim was a cop. And more so, when he had an audience and Steve served that purpose quite well indeed.

With one last deep inhale, Danny squinted his eyes open just enough to make sure he'd be injecting the contents of the syringe into his vein.

"Do it," Grinnell whispered as Danny finally obliged, almost startling himself by the ease in which he managed it. The skin, the vein, the subtle prick of pain. It all coalesced and Danny fought past the fearful clenching of his stomach as he gently depressed the small plunger. He sucked in air noisily through his nose and then pushed it out though his mouth as the liquid disappeared. His eyes watered as the clear liquid flowed into his body and just as shakily, Danny dropped the syringe when it was done. Then, he loosened the tourniquet, letting that fall to the concrete.

"Good, good," the man murmured in quiet approval.

"Now, let him go," Danny demanded, his voice amazingly steady despite the way his heart was thudding off-kilter.

"No," Grinnell breathed out so very softly. "I want you to look at me." The command was soft and meant only for Danny's ears. He did look up then, directly into Grinnell's eyes. No doubt, Danny was now blatantly showing his fear. He didn't know what was going to happen once he'd pushed the drug into his body. Regardless, would the man stick to his word or kill Steve anyway? Would Danny live ... or die?

"Do you know what synesthesia is, Detective?" Grinnell asked as he studied Danny's face. Though all of HPD and Five-0 had the autopsy results from Grinnell's prior victims, the question was actually sincere and yet Danny didn't reply.

"It's taken me years to perfect just the right balance of drugs to do it justice ... to bring that experience to life on my terms. What I can't quite manage yet is the experience; the experience differs for each person. Some might smell something and see the colors of the rainbow. Or, conversely, colors might seem to project a heavy scent like a perfume ... or even of decay. In this case, it truly is all in the eye of the beholder."

"And ... death," Danny muttered under his breath as he waited for something to happen. He scowled at the onset of sensations. His skin felt like it was crawling and he suddenly felt uncomfortably hot - _inside_ \- his face flushing in response. He knuckled his chest awkwardly, his head already spinning by the slight motion.

"What?" Danny breathed out in confusion, his fingers trembling and his legs twitching. He scrubbed at his bare arms, trying to get the itch to stop. "W-what ... what's ...?"

He suddenly couldn't think of what he wanted to say though. Instead, he briefly closed his eyes as his vision swam sickeningly.

"Danno?" Steve's voice was tight with emotion. Danny heard him cough again as his breath was cut off and he opened his eyes to look towards Steve, only to grimace when he caught Grinnell's expression, the man smiling, evidently more than pleased.

"Perfect," the man whispered to some internal clock as he catalogued Danny's progression. "Right on time ... just as planned."

Almost all of Grinnell's victims had died. He'd perfected nothing; the man was a murderer. The designer drug which he was so proud of creating was experimental and hideously dangerous. So now, Danny couldn't hide the shiver which rippled through his shoulders. He shook his head in vain, dizzy, and light-headed when it felt as if the hard concrete might be shifting underneath him. Without wanting to, he finally looked up at Steve and he saw what must have been his own fear mirrored in his friend's eyes. Steve's breathing was labored, his face bright red as the bear of a man which had him virtually incapacitated, squeezed harder.

_Can't breathe._

Eyes wide, Danny raised his hand towards his own throat as his breathing stuttered to a similar, painful halt. He couldn't breathe ... couldn't speak ... and his vision began to frighteningly dim along its edges. His neck wobbled as his eyes flickered briefly back towards Jacob Grinnell. The man was still smiling. Waiting. Watching. Apparently, just waiting to see what Danny would do. What Danny might experience after self-administering a dose of his expensive designer drug.

Eyes ever widening, Danny looked back to Steve, focusing on that thick, tanned arm which was pressed hard against Steve's windpipe. Danny's hands weakly pawed at his throat, his mouth gaping open as he fought to sneak in just a bit of air. He watched helplessly as the second man, the one who had laughed at his boss's words, turned towards Steve and cracked his fingers in glee before reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of brass knuckles.

Some silent command had been given. The permission had been granted for Grinnell's men to _hurt Steve just a little bit more_.

With his hands cuffed behind his back and held in place by the sheer breadth of his attacker, Steve couldn't move. He could scarcely breathe. Afraid for Danny, he was forced to stand there as the second man almost lovingly ran the knuckles along his cheekbone. With his own limbs now feeling numbed, Danny watched as the second man rudely caressed Steve's cheek, but he sucked in an alarmed breath, flinching when he felt the cold, slick of the metal against his own right cheek.

He blinked. Dumb-founded by the sensation. Mesmerized, Danny didn't realize that his own fingers were shakily skirting over that same spot; that he was transfixed on Steve, and that Grinnell was focused solely on him.

Danny helplessly watched as the second man drew back his arm, the glint of metal flashing forwards as he punched Steve squarely in the jaw. As if controlled by a puppet's strings, Danny's own head whipped backwards at the same time, pain exploding through his jawline. Grunting in shock and stunned by the unexpected volume of agony lancing through the side of his face, Danny fell forward, gasping and trying to get air back into his lungs. His hazy view of Steve confirmed that the thug had loosened his hold around Steve's neck, just long enough for his peer to level that first hit and Steve was hanging forwards, also struggling to breathe.

As Steve sucked in air, so did Danny. One, then two and finally three shallow, panted breaths. But it wasn't enough. That shared respite was short-lived. Without warning, those metal knuckles sucker-punched Steve in the side, caving his body into an uncomfortable arc. Ribs, abdomen, kidney strikes. Danny watched and felt it all.

_He couldn't breathe again ... he couldn't get past the explosive pain ... something felt broken inside._

"S-stop," Danny wheezed as he inexplicably jolted in kind. "Y-you said...you said you wouldn't kill him." He weakly shook his head in denial wanting to get to his feet, to help Steve and stop the pain that he was in. He'd done what Grinnell had demanded. Why hadn't he stopped? But other than that weak shake of his head, nothing would work. His limbs were all but deadened and Danny gurgled as pain blossomed along his rib cage; each shallow breath dwindling to a pained wheezing cough in complete synchronization with Steve.

 _There wasn't enough air._ He mewled in confusion wanting Grinnell to back off Steve and yet not understanding how it was happening - _to him_ \- who was doing it _to him_ if Jacob Grinnell was simply crouched there?

"Stop!" Grinnell suddenly shouted, one hand raised high. "Stop! Wait ... let me think!"

He'd been watching Danny very intently, every so often glancing over at his men's' proceedings. Almost awed when something finally seemed to enlighten him and Grinnell demanded that they stop now, allowing Steve to hang from his thug's big hands.

"Interesting," the man whispered, incredulous and then almost manically. "What have we here ... _eh_ , Detective? What indeed?"

"L-leave h-him alone," Steve pushed out as Grinnell lifted Danny's head up by his hair to look him squarely in the eye.

"W-what ... what ... d-ddid you do to me?" Danny mumbled as he fought to catch his breath. Grinnell's face swam in and out of focus. He lurched forward, gaining a knee, his hand braced on the wall behind him as he tried to get up. Grinnell giggled, un-offended by Danny's attempt. Danny raised his hand beseechingly as if asking for help. But Grinnell simply scuttled backwards, watching and waiting. Scarcely a moment later, the parking garage seemed to tip on its axis and Danny was sliding back down to the ground, thumping to sit once more. He was scared and completely out of his element. He fought hard to focus on Steve's face, his fear rising when he saw that his friend was now hanging limply in the thug's big hands, his breathing punctuated by a dull whine. Danny's breath adopted the same cadence and tone; he felt the same pain through his mid-section. He felt the ripple of pain through his jawline. But, when their eyes met, Steve's eyes were livid as blood dripped from his torn cheek.

"L-leave h-him alone," Steve repeated and almost instantly, Danny felt a flare of rage kindling inside his chest. That rage offset most of his fear and it escalated as the second man surged forward, his fist sinking directly into Steve's solar plexus to effectively silence him.

"G-get the hell away from him! Grinnell ... stop ... stop this," Danny ground out, his teeth clenching and his face reddening as he tried to get up again ... to do anything to protect Steve. He'd never felt such an anger, his hands bunching into fists, desperate to get up and yet unable to gain more than an inch. With his muscles now trembling uncontrollably, he couldn't get his act together enough for a coordinated defense. Dizzy and feeling more sickly by the second, a veritable river of sweat was trickling down his back to pool and soak through his ruined shirt. His skin was prickling as if insects were crawling over it, and yet it was also over-heated and glistening - all from the affects of the drug.

"Grinnell ...," Danny gasped.

Grinnell was gone from his side though, suddenly standing up to his full height and stalking a wide circle around the small group.

"Give me a lighter," Grinnell demanded. "I'd like to test a theory."

"Steve?" Danny said warily as Grinnell's man handed his boss a lighter. The pain had oddly dwindled to nearly nothing, though Danny's anger was still mirroring Steve's. Knowing that nothing good was about to happen, Danny looked to Steve as Grinnell thumbed the lighter open, igniting the flame. _Anger. Fury. Absolute hatred for the three men_. As he was flooded by the raw emotion, Danny grunted, drawing on the feelings.

"M'okay," Steve spat out angrily as Grinnell until unexpectedly stepped back towards Danny. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Steve's eyes widened in surprise as the man glanced over his shoulder to leer at him, only to crouch down once more.

"So, Detective?" Grinnell asked conversationally, ignoring Steve entirely in favor of Danny. "Care to help me test yet another theory?"

Jacob Grinnell was excited. That was evident by the way his own hands were now shaking in anticipation. Literally drooling about his insane assumptions, he gazed at Danny in a parody of adoration. "You're going to make history," Grinnell whispered under his breath. "You're going to make me famous."

Muscles thrumming as if electrified, Danny didn't speak as Grinnell teased the flame in front of his face, threatening him. The man's toothy smile was already reeling crazily, the fuzzy whiteness of his teeth blurring with his other features. Doing his best, Danny readied himself, expecting to be burned somewhere on his body. Instead, Grinnell laughed out loud as he smoothly regained his feet.

"Watch ... _watch_ , Detective," Grinnell crooned as he held the lighter directly to Steve's t-shirt sleeve until the material caught fire. As it smoked and the flame took hold, he partially turned to watch Danny's reaction as Steve hissed quietly in pain.

"Watch," he whispered with a sickly, avid interest. " _Watch_ ..."

And Danny watched until his own right arm flared up in agony, needing to briefly close his eyes to ride it out just as Steve's shirt smoldered and his skin blistered from the searing heat. It was a small area to be sure, but the pain was significant and Danny sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Steve...," Danny almost begged for any kind of relief. But the drug was already fouling his system; it was far too late.

"Fascinating," Grinnell whispered as Steve tried to shirk away and a series of reddened blisters appeared on his arm. He kept his lips shut despite the pain, refusing to give anymore credence to Grinnell's sick, ad hoc experiments. Across from where he was being held though, Danny had bitten his lip in kindred pain, a droplet of blood now leaving a thin trail down his chin. With a soft thoughtful sound, Grinnell allowed the lighter to go out.

"Hurt one ... but then ... the other. The _other_ also feels the same pain. Empathy? Perhaps. Surely a nice theory, but I bet this runs deeper. Much, much deeper."

Jacob Grinnell gave long pause and Danny, now feeling decidedly nauseous, switched his gaze to the man, worried by what he thought he saw in his expression. For what it was worth, Danny certainly didn't understand a thing Grinnell had just said. He was struggling to breathe and it wasn't just from whatever empathetic feelings Grinnell thought his drug had induced between him and Steve. Inside, Danny felt all wrong. Sickly and shaky; his nerves were high sensitized and his heart was racing wildly in his chest.

He felt as if he was being flayed raw inside and out.

Nonetheless, Grinnell hemmed and hawed. He took his time as if pondering what to do next. Behind him, Steve had soon regained some of his bearings and had begun to struggle, clearly distressed by what was happening.

"I've created a mirror touch synesthete," Grinnell proudly announced. "I bet you don't know what that is ... even if you are one now." He stood over Danny, smiling. Inordinately pleased with himself. "This drug ... _my drug_ ... is permitting you to feel not only the same sensations, but also the very same emotions that you perceive in another. _Ah_! A most interesting side effect! I've only _heard_ of this ... I never thought in my wildest imaginings that I could _create_ it!"

Though he was excessively pleased, Grinnell narrowed his eyes. Clearly some other thought had slid eerily across his brain. Danny stared into the maniac's eyes startled anew by a surge of ... omnipotence. That sensation of absolute invincibility lasted for just a second and then it was gone as Grinnell turned away from him.

"Too much," Danny moaned brokenly, a hand to his head as that too began to ache as if it might split in two.

"You. Give me your hand," Grinnell said, beckoning the second man to his side. Unthinkingly, the man did as he was asked, shoving the brass knuckles back into his pocket. He held his hand out, still not aware of what his boss intended until Grinnell grasped him firmly by the wrist and flicked the lighter open.

"Hey. come on!" The man shrieked in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Hold still," Grinnell demanded as he switched his gaze back to where Danny sat up against the wall. He tugged hard when his man tried to pull away, a brief flare of anger making his voice rise. "Hold still! And Detective, you ... watch."

Unable to look away despite the flux of tears in his eyes, Danny did watch as Grinnell turned the flame on the second man's hand. And once again, in complete horrific harmony, Danny hissed as he felt the searing pain through the palm of his left hand. He whimpered and weakly turned his hand over in his lap, stunned when he saw that he was unblemished.

But the pain ... the _pain_ was so very, very real. His head thumped in time to his heart and once again, Danny strove to get to his feet. Now though, just in sheer desperation to escape the sensory overload.

"God damnit, boss!" The man cried out as he waved his injured hand in the air and then vainly blew on it. "Why the hell did you have to go and do that?!"

"To prove a point," Grinnell whispered deviously. He looked down at Danny, his expression one of absolute pride. "Now, to keep you alive ... that will be the trick. The trick indeed ..."

"S-steve ..." Danny moaned as that flare of anger morphed more strongly back into a personal sense of fear. His breathing was off, his heart was beating far too wildly inside his chest. Strangely attuned to others around him, he couldn't keep up and he felt sick and disembodied; the drug had done odd things to him. It was still doing things to him. And yet, based on the man's egotistical pride, Grinnell had found himself a lab rat, _if Danny managed to live_.

The realization struck Danny hard as Grinnell glanced his way. The man wanted so much more and yet, what Danny felt inside was like ... _dying_.

"Kill him," Grinnell suddenly ordered, his hand idly tossing towards Steve as if he were an after-thought. His broad smile showered Danny with an indulgent sense of excitement. "Then ... we get _him_ into the van."

"No," Danny replied brokenly as Grinnell grabbed his arm. "No ... you said ... you ..."

"That was _before_ you turned into such a ... treasure, Detective," Grinnell oozed mockingly. He tapped his temple and shrugged, his laugh echoing through the old parking garage. "Besides .. I lied. And now, I need to know why you had such a splendid reaction to my drug ... _why_ ... and what makes you tick. How I can sustain this ... skill ... perhaps even permanently. Unfortunately, I do _not_ need the Commander."

Stunned, Danny looked at Steve as Grinnell hauled him to his feet. Their eyes met and held this time, long enough for Danny to absorb the absolute rage leeching off of Steve like a sponge. His muscles bunched despite their uncontrollable juddering. His knees locked.

The big thug who had been holding Steve loosened his grip, intending to step away as his peer readied his gun. Danny sensed it all; saw it happening as if in slow motion inside his mind.

Jacob Grinnell draped Danny's arm over his shoulder. He took one step and that was as far as any of the men got because Danny exploded in rage.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

 

Steve reacted the instant he saw Danny clench his fists. Heart sick, he knew just enough about what was happening to his friend; he also knew that, with the drug flowing through his system, Danny wasn't thinking straight. But Steve wasn't sure that he was thinking straight either. The way Danny had responded to Grinnell's man being burned had been mind-boggling. And now, the way Danny had apparently fed off his own rage and then amplified it ten-fold, Steve was honestly more than just a bit freaked out.

Fueled by adrenalin and anger for what they'd both been put through - especially for what Danny was going through now - Steve struck swiftly. Rearing backwards, he slammed his head into the nose of the brute behind him, hard enough to at least stun the man and send him staggering to the side. With his arms bound behind his back though, his options were sorely limited, especially with the flare of abject pain which seared across his ribs. So severe, he nearly whited out and lost his bearings entirely. But he didn't stop. From there, Steve physically forced his arms to the front of his body, refusing to acknowledge the pull on his abdomen or the strain on his shoulders.

Those things didn't matter at all.

He couldn't stop because Danny had lost total control in a frenzied attack which was doing more than good justice to the tenets of old fashioned street fighting. After that though, Steve couldn't be sure what might happen. The deadly affects of the drug, the near-hysterical look in Danny's eyes, none of it boded well. Their only chance at escape had just presented itself and the singular next step after incapacitating their enemy was to find medical attention as quickly as possible.

Forced to focus on his burly opponent, Steve whirled around to continue his crippling attack. A booted strike took out the bigger man's right knee, and as he crashed to the ground, an elbow rocked his head on his thick neck. Without needing to think, Steve's complete game changer was a second boot to the man's chin. The round house kick was solid and true despite the agony which flared through Steve's midsection. Eyes rolling back in his head, Grinnell's oversized thug fell hard, his head rebounding off the concrete with a thick, wet slap of sound. With no time to spare in considering if he'd killed the man or not, Steve whirled around looking for Danny.

Jacob Grinnell was down. In fact, he'd been down well before Steve might have blinked an eye at the lout who'd been restraining him. He'd heard Grinnell's arm break the instant he'd reacted to cave in the big thug's nose. And now as he got a closer look, based on the angle of Grinnell's neck, there was little doubt that he was dead. But Danny and the other man, the one whose hand had been burned, were both gone.

Other than the two bodies, Steve was now entirely alone.

"Danny!" Steve shouted in alarm, pausing only long enough to dig out the key to his handcuffs from his own pocket. He scooped up the gun which had fallen in the fray, grunting as he did so and barely keeping his footing as his ribs shifted inside with a painful creak, resulting in a chesty, tannic cough. Grunting again in distaste, Steve moved on, ignoring the bad taste which fouled his mouth.

"Danny! Hey!" All caution gone to the wind, Steve called out again, stifling an urge to cough. Yet he heard nothing, not even the echo of a single footstep in the cavernous parking garage. He looked up, towards the concrete ramp and the promise of daylight, but something told him Danny hadn't gone up. Neither man had gone up. Quite inconceivably, both had gone down ... deeper into the structure.

"Damnit, Danny, why would you do that?" Steve cursed softly under his breath. With an arm anchored to his aching side, he took off on a lop-sided jog, confident that he was going in the right direction. That lope soon turned into a careful walk though. With one hand on the concrete wall as he slowly edged down another parking ramp, Steve strained to see what he could in the dim light. Most strangely, it was the tip of a shoe which stopped him in his tracks. Turned on end, toe rocking on the ground, it seemed to be balanced on its own until Steve's eyes further accustomed themselves to the dark and he saw the attached ankle, then the darkly colored jeans.

Biting his lip to prevent a groan from escaping, Steve bent down and squinted worriedly. The shoe was brown, old and scuffed. And as he crept closer, Steve could just make out the white skin of the man's ankle where his blue jeans had ridden up. The dark tribal tattoo was equally telling, it confirmed his hopes, and Steve relaxed as he finally collapsed to one knee next to the body. His hand skirted the man's back, up to his neck to blindly search for a pulse. But the broken bones under his fingers made Steve grimace in distaste and he knew Grinnell's second man was dead, before he could find where the pulse should have been.

Another broken neck. Another dead body ... not Danny, thank god. But certainly, and disturbing enough in its act, Danny's doing.

"Danno!" Steve called out more loudly. "Danny!" He painfully struggled back to his feet, his hand once more on the smooth concrete of the wall. He stopped to regain his equilibrium, swallowing hard to avoid vomiting where he stood as his entire body objected moving. He had no time to worry about himself because Danny had almost no time left at all.

"Where are you buddy? It's Steve ... it's me. It's over ... we need to get the hell out of here!" He listened hard after his plaintive shout. He held his breath and listened as hard as he could until he finally heard the softest of sounds. It was a puff of air on the wind. The subtle scrape of a heel on cement. Then, the unmistakable sound of a frightened exhale and Steve edged forward along the wall. Ever cautious and wondering now _really_ , what state he'd find his friend in.

"Danny, answer me," Steve demanded. His tone was gentle, even pleading. "Answer me ... come on, talk to me."

Instead of a verbal reply though, Steve was startled when he felt fingers ghost along his skin from out of the darkness to shakily close around his wrist. Cold, trembling and slick with a combination of both blood and sweat, Danny clung to him like a life-line.

"S-Steve?" Danny's voice was wisp-thin. "I-I... think ... I'm ...dying."

"No! No you're not!" Steve burst out in shock as he pulled Danny up and into his arms, oblivious to everything else. "No, you're not ... I won't let you."

He vainly tried to see his friend's face but the dim light only allowed him a vague impression of things. Danny was in shock, his face a ghastly white. What he could literally feel through his arms told him volumes more though. As he'd feared, Danny was in very real trouble.

"Let's go ... right now ... up top," Steve insisted as Danny's legs started to buckle and ... having that happen? That was something which he was in no shape to manage. "No! No, I need you to walk. Let's go, buddy."

"No. Can't. D-don't know ... if I can," Danny vacillated badly, sounding lost and absolutely petrified. His voice was muffled as he hid his face against Steve's shirt, his entire body vibrating uncontrollably from the affects of the drug. "I c-can't ...m-my head ... t-the things I-I felt... Steve, I c-can't. And ...inside. S-something's w-wrong ... in-inside."

"Okay, okay. Calm down ... I got you," Steve murmured as his own fear skyrocketed about Danny's apparent desire to give up. "I got you, buddy."

 _But did he?_ Steve was injured, too, he groaned unconsciously as he took more and more of Danny's weight and said a little prayer. The walk back up to the main levels suddenly seemed insurmountable, but their cells had been trampled underfoot on purpose by Grinnell's men. Steve needed to get to their car to radio for help. He could feel the heat coming off his partner like a furnace though; a sickly abnormal heat. And compounding what he could feel, but not see, just hearing the labored harshness of each breath was enough for concern. Danny needed professional medical attention. But with his own injuries, there was no way on earth Steve could get Danny out of the structure on his own if he dared collapse.

"Don't you dare give up on me," Steve said firmly. "Listen to me. I need you to _walk_ , Danno. This is not up for discussion - none of it."

There was no answer. Nothing. But instead of trying to engage his partner more, Steve simply began to walk with Danny tucked to his side, his arms wrapped around him. The going was slow and Steve ached to stop. He tried to manage his breathing and yet he failed, each step resulting in a sharp cough and another tannic scent which invaded his mouth and sinuses. Afraid of the affect on Danny, Steve could only keep going and pray that Danny wouldn't eventually see the strain on his face as they finally gained the first floor to bypass Grinnell's body and that of the bigger lackey.

"Almost there," Steve chanted as they made the first puddles of true sunlight. "Almost ... just a few more steps."

Still distraught by what he'd witnessed earlier, Steve couldn't take the risk that Danny would _see_ and then _know_ and so, he vainly tried to keep Danny's head tucked to his side. He tried to keep Danny protected from what he might draw upon. Because if he _saw_ , then he might be sent into a state of ... _what_? Steve didn't know what to call that which Grinnell had managed to create through his designer drug, but whatever the hell Jacob Grinnell had managed to do with that damnable chemical, it certainly wasn't good. He innately sensed that whatever the hell it was, the stimulus would literally be the death of his partner.

"Hang on," Steve coughed out. He used his shoulder to dab awkwardly at the moisture he felt dripping down his lips, determined to get Danny the help he needed. The scent of tannic blood was strong in his nostrils though and he shook his head to chase his own sickly demons away. Under his arm, Danny was clinging heavily to him, feebly forcing his feet to shuffle along. He was close to collapsing and had yet to speak from that last time in the lower depths of the garage. Panting as one, as they struggled together up the last incline and broke fully into the sun, Steve deigned to smile as he blinked wildly in the brightness and saw a beautiful sight: Danny's Camaro.

"We're ... here. I can call ... the car ... the car, Danno. Radio."

Steve dragged his feet forward one or two steps before Danny simply quit on him and they sank down to the ground together. Despite his best efforts, he was indeed breathing noisily and sure enough, Danny had adopted a terrible synchronicity. But his eyes ... his _eyes_ were what alarmed Steve so very much as Danny peeked out from under his arm.

Pale and haunted by pain - mirroring Steve's own agony when he suddenly coughed, Danny turned ashen.

"I'm f-fine," Steve choked out as he dabbed the blood from his lips and then tried to tuck Danny's head back down. "Danny ... no ... don't!"

"D-dying," Danny gasped weakly. He grappled for Steve's hand, at first fighting his hold before his eyes briefly closed. He gagged and then quieted a bit; his exhaustion was obvious and the drug relentless in its quest. A minute later, Danny forced his eyes back open and grimaced when Steve hacked uncontrollably, his own body once again reacting in kind.

"C-can't ... and then ... w-what if?" Danny's voice trailed off and Steve knew what he meant since it was his fear, too. What would happen when help arrived?

"No," Steve said as he shook his head. "No, you _can_ ... you can because, what Grinnell did? Danno, it doesn't work that way," he promised as he pulled Danny even more tightly to his side. " _Remember_ ... Danny, remember that he made you watch ... you need to _watch_ and see things to feel them. I can help you ... I can and we'll manage. Me and you, Danno. We can manage this together ... I'll get you fixed up. It'll be okay."

There was a drawn out period of silence before Danny spoke next. His voice was eerily quiet, far too subdued. "It's t-too late. He a-also said ... trick ... stay 'live."

"Danny. Just ... shut up and keep your damned eyes closed then," Steve ground out, on the verge of tears and refusing to say more as he clawed himself back up to his feet.

"C-closed? S-seriously?" The thin whisper ended on a fragment of a hysterical sound and Steve lost a tear then at the sheer hopelessness of the situation. It trickled down the side of his cheek and as he went to thumb it away, he met Danny's devastated gaze.

"Don't ...," Steve whispered helplessly. Nonetheless, eyes locked, Danny shakily raised his hand to his own cheek.

It was all too much then and Steve whirled away, gasping in shock and nearly losing his balance. Bent in half as pain wracked his middle, he coughed heavily, unsurprised as he spat a wad of bloody phlegm to the ground by the Camaro's passenger tire.

For all he sounded reasonable, Steve tried to convince himself that Danny wasn't thinking straight at all. He tried to tell himself that what had just happened - hadn't occurred _at all_.

Fumbling for the car door and aiming for the radio, Steve tried to convince himself that Danny was only scared half out of his wits and ... merely _confused_. And that quite frankly, so was he. Biting back a sob which became a ragged cough, Steve thumbed the radio to life.

"Officer down ... I repeat ... _officer down!"_

 

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: Thanks to all you wonderful readers for supporting/reading/liking this story! I genuinely appreciate all the kind words and interest. PS = and yeah, still not a doctor. Caveats apply. 
> 
> This is currently the final chapter. However, I've always been intrigued by this subject, so there's a possibility of an epilogue or even taking this entire thing further as Calacious has suggested. If this does continue, the debate is if it's M/M or not ... stay tuned!

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny refused to open his eyes out of a sheer, willful and very selfish desire for self-preservation. It was the last bit of advice which Steve had given him and, said under duress or not, he followed it hours later. To be fair, he had only started to come round and had no idea of the passage of time. He could sense easily enough that he was in a hospital. He could feel the restrictive pressure of the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth; the intravenous running into each arm. If he dared to shift just right, he knew that he'd find other leads or wires or tubes. This was all a given even if the doctors best efforts might turn out to be all for nothing.

But even only partially aware and as weak as a kitten, he remembered just enough to be _afraid_ and so, those words were good enough advice indeed.

He could do this: keep his eyes closed. Not look. Not ... _feel_.

His last conscious memories were seared into his mind, though and he kept revisiting them. Once they'd escaped the darkness of the building, Steve had been unable to hide the blood he'd been coughing up. The blood which had stained his lips and chin compounded the fact that Steve was hurting ... and badly at that. The abject fear which Steve had then broadcasted to him before making that call for help had been painfully overwhelming, too. Danny had _watched_ and had absorbed it all. The emotional and the physical combined into an massive force and he couldn't cope with any of it. He'd been barely conscious by the time the ambulance had arrived.

Jacob Grinnell had described the experience which his drug provided, a cosmic event. For Danny though, it surpassed cosmic entirely and fell into a churning, black abyss. There was nothing for him there in that hell. Nothing to hold onto at all; it only proved that he was dying. The fear in Steve's eyes said that he believed Danny was dying, too.

So not looking now? Hanging on to that one bit of frenetic, helplessly voiced bit of advice to _close his eyes_ ... it was good enough.

Unconscious of doing it, Danny furrowed his brow in distress, ever-deepening lines spread across his forehead. Keeping his eyes closed was easy, because as he catalogued how _he_ felt, things were still off. The skin on his arms seemed to burn and itch at the same time. His head ached with a vengeance and yet his brain felt as if it might be melting. Able to ooze out if not for being trapped inside his skull. Deep inside his core, he was sure that had happened already. Deep inside, there was still that burning heat which wanted to consume him whole and it was then that he realized he wasn't breathing right.

The hoarse rasping sound which he'd been only faintly aware of ... that was coming from him.

Danny's face scrunched up even more. He panted erratically as that internal heat became a physical pain. The shallow, panted attempts to breathe hitched and almost stopped. An alarm went off somewhere to his right and still, he didn't open his eyes. He knew what all of this was now. He'd seen the truth in Steve's eyes no matter what he'd said about making sure Danny would stay alive or how Danny should just keep his eyes closed.

Neither of them could make this better. The doctors best efforts couldn't save him. The drug was just too strong.

The truth was that he was dying from it. And back at the parking garage, long before the ambulance had gotten there, he'd _felt_ it in Steve. Helpless to stop himself now, Danny replayed what he'd seen in his friend's face. A dread that had transformed into a tangible feeling of indescribable fear. There had been no way to hide that. That dread was why Steve had practically stumbled into the Camaro to demand help: Steve had known that Danny was dying, too, no matter what he might have said at the time.

 _Steve_.

As he became more aware, Danny realized that he didn't know what had happened to Steve. He didn't know if he was all right after that call for help had been made. He couldn't remember. Danny had felt Steve's deep physical pain when he'd seen those bloodstained lips. The hacking coughs had resonated though Danny's body as much as they had Steve's ... and he'd _hurt_. He'd felt it all as if it were his own.

 _Pain. Exhaustion. Something inside Steve had also been ... broken._ _Fear_.

Steve's injuries had been bad. Were bad. Danny felt it deep inside and a helpless sense of panic began to form a knot in his chest. He was dying and he didn't know where Steve was ... and that crazy jumble of emotion was too much to handle. Everything coalesced into a terrible whole with his own pain and confusion, and even with his eyes closed now, it was all just too much for Danny to contend with. Desperate for relief, Danny moaned out loud, panting in shallow spurts, that damnable alarm chiming incessantly in his ears and making his head throb all the harder.

' _Steve,'_ Danny mouthed his friend's name under that restrictive oxygen mask. At first no one was there and then suddenly, there _was_. Resolute in keeping his eyes closed, Danny felt the rush of air before he even heard his name being called out.

"Danny ... Danny. Hey ... okay, I'm here. I'm here."

"S-Steve?" Danny's voice barely projected. The alarm hadn't stopped yet, but suddenly Steve was _there_.

"Yeah, you're okay." One hand found Danny's forehead, soothing away the pained furrows within its warmth, though that touch was startling because Danny hadn't realized just how very cold he was. Then, Steve's fingers were wrapping tightly around Danny's hand, unclenching his fist to pull the wad of bedding free. Only then did Danny realize just how badly he was also shaking; his entire body was wracked by uncontrollable muscle spasms.

"Easy. Take it easy, buddy. It's okay now," Steve coached him softly. There was a brief pause and the shrill squeal finally ended; someone else had evidently entered the room, too. Long enough for the noise to stop. Just long enough for Steve to shush and reassure him that he was really there.

"Danny. Hey, you're going to be okay. The drug's almost out of your system. I need you to hang in; calm down and just ..."

"Commander, you need to sit down!" The strident voice came from the doorway, interrupting Steve, and just as Danny carefully squinted his eyes open. "You can't be on your feet like this! You need to sit ... "

"I'll sit down when I'm damned good and ready!" Steve all but shouted, his voice distant as he growled that warning out over his shoulder, his tone dripping with anger. He paused to cough, unable to hide a hoarse groan as another ragged coughing jag cut him short. Still angry, though much more subdued when he finally did speak again, it was to that same person.

"You were _supposed_ to tell me when he showed signs of waking! Someone should have been here!" Steve whispered harshly. "No one was here ... why did that monitor go off?"

Even catching only a hazy view of Steve's silhouette, Danny cringed at the anger he saw there, expecting to feel ... _something_ ... and actually shuddering when a thin trill of rage did prickle the back of his neck. Steve coughed again and when a harmonious stab of pain rippled across Danny's ribs at the same time, he gasped in empathy, the weak sound not quite swallowed up by the oxygen mask.

"Damn it!" Steve cursed under his breath when he noticed the rise in Danny's distress. "Breathe ... _easy_ ... I swear you're okay. There was just a bit of a mis-understanding."

Their eyes met and Danny swallowed hard, riveted. Steve was angry, exhausted, in pain. But that anger was winning out and there was a terrible bubble percolating between them, even if it was dimmer than before. Farther away and Danny should have been able to handle its wider distance. Nonetheless, he couldn't and Danny's already compromised breathing caught in his throat. He shuddered at the leftover resonance of Steve's anger, still sick and very unwell as wave after wave of pain wracked his body. His own now coupled and amplified by Steve's. Perhaps not as palpable as before, but it was still there and just as unpleasant and frightening regardless of a lesser intensity.

Frightened by what could happen next, Danny closed his eyes, seeking refuge in the darkness. _Don't look ... don't watch ... don't feel._ Trembling and trying to free his hand from Steve's grip, Danny almost forgot how to breathe again. His flight instincts were creeping to the fore just as they had back in the parking garage when he'd opted to go down instead of up towards the sunlight ... to _go down_ to escape a terrifying sensory overload.

"I'm sorry! Danny, it's okay ...I'm sorry," Steve whispered desperately as Danny retreated. He let Danny's hand go only to reclaim in a second later, intent on grounding him and making him listen. "I need you to look at me, Danno. Please. That won't happen again. Promise."

"Yeah," Danny murmured, unconvinced as he bravely peered upwards. He squinted through his lashes, trembling and waiting for something to happen. Steve was indeed calmer though and his features oddly serene as he drew in a slow, purposeful breath, his relief at controlling another cough actually caressing Danny's abused system like a balm.

 _That_ was a different experience and Danny blinked in confusion as his muscles slowly relaxed.

"Good. That's better," Steve nodded in approval. He waited a hairsbreadth, his tone low and his wording, careful. "Listen to me. You're not going to die. I know you feel like shit. The doctors ... they're still working on getting your vitals stabilized. But you're going to be all right."

Danny shook his head though. He still felt the fear reverberating through Steve's hand, threatening to displace that odd glimmer of peacefulness. And though Steve tried to hide it all, Danny eventually read that same ongoing dread in his face and Danny shivered, his muscles once more thrumming in warning, as an ominous feeling fought to settle inside his chest.

He'd seen that look and he'd _felt_ this before. There was no peace because he _was_ still ... _dying_.

"T-too late," Danny mouthed softly, scarcely audible. His first words sent a distinct ripple of fear through Steve that was impossible for him to smother and Danny almost had to laugh at their predicament; but he just couldn't find the humor or energy anymore. It was definitely too late and he gave Steve a sad, little smile.

An apology.

"No! No ... don't you dare do that again! Don't go there," Steve whispered earnestly, the words falling from his lips in a rush. "Please ... you have to believe me."

He coughed when he breathed in too quickly, his eyes crinkling in distress. Inadvertently making Danny wince in kind as a distorted version of white hot pain cramped his own ribcage. They stared at each other, not knowing what to do, both still afraid, with Steve muttering a disgusted curse under his breath for what he'd accidentally done. _Again_.

"It's my fault ... I couldn't control my emotions. I couldn't and I'm not doing a good job right now, either. So, maybe I shouldn't be here; maybe this was a bad idea because you scared the crap out of me back there with Grinnell. But I need you to understand that I _was_ just scared to shit back there and I know ... I know you _saw_ that. Danny, we scared each other ... and I've been waiting hours for you to wake up because ... _because_ I thought ... I _thought_ I _was_ going to kill you. But ... the _doctors_ , they've got your system nearly stabilized and you're going to be fine."

Danny shook his head to object, his brow furrowing deeply in confusion under the steady weight of Steve's hand. Steve was _hurt_ and Steve was _upset_ and both of those things were sapping Danny's ability to pay attention. He was also talking far too quickly for Danny to keep up. Stuck on a few stray words here and there, Danny shook his head, miserable, as Steve launched into another softly voiced urgent plea.

"The drug _is_ almost out of your system; the worst of your reaction is over. But there's enough of the thing left in your bloodstream which is still amplifying what you _think_ you're feeling and reading off other people ... so, I need you to hang in; calm down and just ... you know what? I'll go. Okay? The nurses and the doctors know what to do to avoid triggering anything. And you're so much better already. Maybe in a day or two ... or even a few hours, I can come back ..."

"No," Danny whispered as he finally, _finally_ heard and understood what Steve was saying. What he was so badly trying to apologize for. _Nearly killing him?_ And now? Now, he was going to ... _go?_ Wait ... he'd just said that he'd ... _come back?_ That meant he was ... _leaving_? That hadn't been the plan back in the parking garage. And while Danny might be confused by barely remembered snippets of what had happened with Grinnell, he sure remembered Steve's promises.

"No," he repeated aimlessly, his stress on the rise. "No, _no_..."

"No? No, what ... what's wrong?" Steve struggled to ask quietly. He was fighting to school his features, to not cough, to stay calmly on an even keel, and if Steve hadn't been so similarly out of sorts, Danny knew that he might have smiled at the woeful attempts.

They knew each other too well and that was bad ... but it was also, good. Maybe. Sick and confused, Danny didn't know anymore as his muscles continued their uncontrollable tremble.

Steve was upset ... he cared so much ... he kept blaming himself for every single one of Danny's visceral responses and was ready to beat a hasty retreat until the doctors could give the all clear. He was stupidly trying to apologize for something which was not his fault; but which in truth back then, no ... _no_ , Danny was wrong to call it stupid. It sure hadn't been so stupid back then and Steve was still very much dwelling on it.

And quite frankly, he was right to do so since Danny wasn't at all sure he was going to be all right.

It was true that Danny still felt so very sick and his insides were just _wrong;_ he thought he'd have died by now. He should have died by now. Yet, here he was and here was Steve hanging onto his fingers so tightly that Danny could almost hear the bones creaking. The drug-induced synesthesia was weaker but still allowing him to pick up on too much stimuli.

Shoddy as it was, he wanted to follow their original plan. Having people he didn't know around him would be so much more worse and so much more problematic. Inside ... _inside_ ... Danny knew that he wanted the familiar ... he wanted someone he _trusted_.

He wanted someone who cared so much for him that he wouldn't be allowed to _die_. He _wanted_ Steve to stay with him as he'd promised.

"Stay ... you s-said," Danny whispered. He stammered, trying to find the right words in his musty memory. "You _said_ ... we'd ride this out t-together. I r-remember that m-much. S-stay."

"But. Are you sure?" Steve asked quietly. "Danny ... I could really screw this up. I almost have." He left the ' _again_ ' hanging unspoken. Hesitating, Steve searched Danny's face. His posture shifted in a matter of seconds when Danny nodded and then incredibly, shrugged. Almost instantly, the worry left Steve's eyes and his expression lightened. He dared to grin and chuffed an odd sound. A _happy_ sound.

 _Happy_. Danny picked up on a new sensation. He tested and pulled at it as that happy sound washed over him in a completely different way. It mirrored that promise of peace by touching him so completely that he felt more _whole._ This feeling was good and so very, very welcome, that Danny sighed unconsciously, peacefully. _Thankfully_. His lips twitched and this time, Danny really did smile.

"Thank you," Danny voiced that truth as his eyes unexpectedly threatened to close from exhaustion. "Yeah. M'sure. S-stay."

He was bone-weary and he could barely project his voice through the oxygen mask. This was the right decision though; this was good and what he needed. _Who_ he needed. Feeling calmer bit by bit, Danny inhaled deeply, his exhale fogging the mask. He was still trembling but his breathing had improved. He allowed his eyes to close, feeling that newly shared calm and bringing it in to himself. Selfishly trying to squirrel it away.

But there was another thing wrong and for all Steve's acting skills - or maybe because of his current abysmal lack of them - Danny forced his eyes back open and he lost some of that peace. He watched Steve, saw that arm wedged protectively against his side, and purposefully traced his fingers lightly over his own abdomen.

Steve was calmer and equally more relaxed. Despite the happier contentment, there was a hint of discomfort around the crinkle of his eye.

_Achy. A feeling of ... breathlessness. Each breath ... hurt. His chest ached. A feeling of absolute ... exhaustion. Nausea._

Danny fidgeted uncomfortably as vestiges of those sensations bled through his mental fingers. He could sense them and they slightly disrupted that happier feeling, but they were harder to grasp and the disruption merely a blip. They were faint. Bad, yes ... but not _as_ bad and he stayed cognizant enough to be able to think this time. Sure Steve was also still worried for him, that was a surety based on the tightness around his eyes and the way he continued to hover near Danny's bedside.

He probably thought that he should have been the one to inject himself with Grinnell's strange designer drug. And Danny sniffed at that while he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully to consider that opinion. Steve would have done it ... no doubt, there. But then Steve shifted his stance and Danny caught the outline of a white bandage on his bicep and Danny's gaze froze.

 _Grinnell and the lighter._ His damned experiment to prove that Danny had had the most remarkable of reactions to his specialized drug. That maniac had burned Steve and left a swath of blistered skin in his path. Unable to see it and with Steve not in any evident pain from it now though, Danny physically felt nothing. Still, he blanched at the memory and Steve noticed.

"What's wrong? Should I ... go? I can go," Steve backpedaled. So disconcerted by Danny's silence and his ongoing close examination of his face, Steve suddenly tried to extricate his fingers from Danny's hold. But Danny wouldn't let go; he was nearly strangling Steve's hand as he watched him.

Danny shook his head in answer to the nervous questioning, remaining silent and just ... bravely ... watching. He had been hurt in the garage. Steve was in pain now and as Danny fought his brain to work, he remembered what he'd just heard that strange voice just say ... a demand to _sit_. Get off his _feet_. That demand had been the reason for Steve's brief surge of anger. With a frown, Danny finally noted Steve's hospital gown. He squeezed Steve's hand meaningfully because hell, if he was going to ... _so not die_... first things first because Steve was evidently a patient under doctors' care, too.

 _Pain. Discomfort._ Danny sensed flashes of those sensations clearly enough as Steve braced his injured ribcage with an elbow and failed at hiding a small grimace.

"You?" Danny asked. He glared at the hospital bracelet with ' _McGarrrett_ ' labeled so clearly, then the white gown and then made a point of noting the hunched way Steve was leaning against Danny's bed.

"Yeah, well," Steve smiled briefly, an attempt at reassurance, his response mechanical. Almost an after-thought, and Danny managed to raise a wary eyebrow, daring Steve to lie.

"It's nothing. A few cracked ribs ... bruised lung ... nothing major. I feel fine, Danny."

" _Uh, huh._ Fine? I c-call bullshit," Danny instantly replied, almost huffy. He tapped his head with his free hand. "Don't think I can't _tell_ , Steven."

"No, I guess you can at that," Steve said. He plastered a smile to his face. "Hey, I got an idea. Maybe we should play the lottery ... win a few million."

Danny blinked, side-tracked by the subtle change in discussion. While he was relieved that Danny seemed to be accepting of his pending recovery, Steve's smile was not wholly genuine, he was still worried and decidedly off balance. Hurting and very tired. The attempt at levity was just that, too. A very bad attempt.

"It d-doesn't work that way," Danny finally said, lips pursed. "And y-you know that ... you _k-know_ that, Steven."

The false smile fled from Steve's face just as quickly as it had appeared and he nodded. "Yeah. Sorry," he replied in all seriousness. "So, what can I do?" He looked away helplessly, stifling a cough into his hand.

"What _should_ you be doing?" Danny whispered on a soft puff of air, not even bothering to fight the ripple of ache he inherited. He grimaced unhappily and briefly closed his eyes as he doggedly tried to continue. They were speaking quietly enough now and the environment around him was calm, predictable. And even if he was being annoyingly evasive, Steve was there and the two were managing well enough as the drug left his system. All of it was good; better than good. Danny was so very tired of trying to cope with just about everything, and it seemed as if they'd finally reached a manageable place.

But ... there was a rather significant _but_ where Danny couldn't bear the risk of quite literally shouldering Steve's physical pain along with his own. Now that they'd talked things out and Danny was in a better place, his earlier request sounded childish. He didn't really need Steve to stay with him per se; just be there at the odd moment or two. Not only childish, it was selfish and unfair because Steve had been injured - he _was_ hurting based on his posture alone. Hurting and absolutely exhausted. Steve would _try_ , but in his condition he'd slip up. He would stay and try to be that buffer. And a fall would be inevitable and he didn't need to put himself in harms' way for Danny. Not any more.

"Bed," Danny whispered with as much authority as he could muster on another weak exhale. "You should be in a bed."

"Yeah." Steve chuffed a rueful sound, but his answer was as honest as the question put to him. "Supposed to be off my feet. Resting. On oxygen ... the doc says the official term is a pulmonary contusion ... it's not too bad though. They only want to watch me...," his voice trailed off uncomfortably as he accidentally used Grinnell's word.

"Do it," Danny murmured tiredly as his eyelids fluttered in warning. "Please." His voice was wispy and he had to close his eyes for a moment to rest before forcing them back open. "Tired, Steve. Really. You, too."

"But?" Steve nodded, yet then looked around, momentarily appearing to be lost. "How ... never mind. I'll make it happen."

"What? M-make what happen?" Baffled, Danny rolled his head to watch Steve leave the room before sighing in defeat. He was exhausted and just too wiped out to press for more. But Danny didn't have to wait long. Within minutes, Steve was back, two orderlies in tow with another ... bed.

"When I said _stay_ ... I'm _sure_ this is _not_ what I meant," Danny protested. He waved his hand idly in the direction of the open door and hallway before letting it drop limply to his chest. He breathed in and then out, and by some miracle found the energy to say a few more words, none of which though earned him a reply. "It's a big hospital, Steve. So, you know ... _Steve_ ... I'll be okay. I'm totally okay now. Just ... _Steve_?"

He could only watch when no one paid him any heed at all, eyebrows raised incredulously as the two orderlies jockeyed the second bed up against the far wall, nearest the door. It was clear enough that Steve was going to go through with this extreme arrangement regardless of Danny's objections. There was just enough room, too. At least, until one of the orderlies yelped out in pain when he slammed his thumb between bed frame and wall.

Eyes darkening, any hint of a smile suddenly gone, Danny hissed in sympathetic pain as the orderly wrung his hand, cursing and practically jigging in place. He looked at his own thumb, knowing it would be unblemished despite the fact that it was throbbing with a vengeance.

This was not good ... not at all and that fear came back in a heady rush. Danny paled and cringed, his eyes locked on the flustered orderly, astonished and dismayed over the empathetic resonance of a simple banged up thumb.

"Uh, Danno?" Steve was suddenly there, calmly blocking his view of the orderly and almost magically, Danny forgot about his thumb. Steve insisted on catching and keeping Danny's eye, a warm smile communicating amusement. A cocky grin that said _'I told you so'_.

"I'm staying," he stated firmly. He smiled broadly as he tilted his head in the direction of the new bed and shrugged rather helplessly. "There ... right there, buddy."

"Yeah," Danny murmured as he nodded in agreement. He managed to smile then too, relieved as Steve's hint of a happier, lighter feeling pleasantly toyed with him once more. "Good idea. Stay. Please."

They knew each other far too well and that was ... _no, -_ Danny caught himself from a negative thought as he dared to relax. _No, he was wrong - not this time._

Eyes burning from fatigue, Danny watched as Steve finally got off his own feet, equally weary to his very core. His chest pinged painfully in tandem with a soft throaty cough. But when Steve sighed in abject relief, his eyes closing before his head even hit the pillow, Danny felt the soothing warmth of that honest, physical release clear down to his toes.

_No, not this time ... it was okay. This time, he knew it was all good._

Danny's breathing calmed. His eyelids fluttered and slowly closed, finally giving in to sleep.

_**~ End ~** _


End file.
